right to remain nameless

idiot

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once, all of these things in my life
a guitar always played
heaps of dirty laundry
spread on the floor like
dirty jam
this is how it all plays out
pretending to live while
a fan blows on my face
just barely enough light to see
just enough will to want to
cloth stained with weepy dreams
still feeling sappy
enough to cry louder
and i realize with a long slow silent breath
that i don’t know what is going on
and i don’t know what i’m thinking about

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Written by indarkplaces

08/11/2009 at 01:06

Posted in poetry

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